


The Perils of Genius

by SOMNlARl



Series: Kinkmeme Prompts [6]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Cullen, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Cullen go off in search of more wine and find themselves in the Inquisitor's special wine cellar. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of Genius

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [LJ da-kinkmeme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=51654005#t51654005); You know that wine cellar that holds all the "Bottles on the Wall"? Cullen and Dorian. Doing it. In there. I don't know why, but it needs to happen. 
> 
> They go down there to try one of the bottles? One thing leads to another?
> 
> Ooor. Say they've been drinking and Dorian wants more so they head down, clumsy, giggly, and they knock over a shelf. Poor Quiz :(
> 
> Talk Cullrian with me on [tumblr](http://xhermionedanger.tumblr.com). Or prompt me. Whatever.

“We have a problem.”

Cullen looks up from the board he’s been hunched over with a start. “Do we? Why do I have a feeling you’re just trying to distract me from my imminent, inevitable victory?”

Dorian rolls his eyes and gestures towards his empty glass. “We are out of wine. It’s a tragedy, I shall not allow it to stand.” 

Cullen snorts back a laugh and turns back to the board, fingering his remaining rook as he thinks on his next move. “If you didn’t drink wine as though it were water…” Dorian grumbles at this and Cullen grins to himself, sneaking a look at the mage’s face which, in contrast to his voice, is smiling broadly. “I can send a message to Josephine? See if she’ll send us something from her private stash?”

“No good, she caught me in her office last week. I imagine she’s still sore that I managed to break into the locked drawer of her desk.” Dorian rubs his palms together, eyes closed in contemplation. 

Cullen stares at the board a moment longer before inspiration hits, he moves the rook forward and looks up at Dorian with a smirk. “Check.”

“Cullen! Cullen. I… am a genius!” Dorian announces, rising up to his feet with a slight stumble. 

That was not exactly the reaction Cullen had been hoping for. “You? You’re the one in check!” 

“Not that! We don’t have to appeal to Josephine at all!” Cullen raises an eyebrow at this but Dorian plows on, oblivious. “The Inquisitor! She has a secret stash, bottles that we’ve been finding all over Thedas. They’re just sitting in a cellar below the main hall. Alone. Unloved. Just waiting for someone to come and enjoy them.” 

“I’m not stealing wine from the Inquisitor, Dorian. I’d rather die of old age than in an avoidable, fiery explosion.” Cullen says flatly, taking a sip from his own glass. Some men paced themselves, a lesson that Dorian could stand to learn. 

“It’s not stealing - she’s never going to drink any of it. They all have warning labels. Can you really see Evelyn drinking anything with a warning label? If anything, we’ll be doing her a favor; ridding her of a potential hazard to her fortress!” And with that Dorian grabs at his hand and pulls him to his feet. 

Cullen sighs, his other hand in a knot at the back of his neck. “Fine, but if we get caught this was your idea. I merely came to dissuade you from your regrettable course of action.”

* * *

“Hirol’s Lava Burst? Dragon Piss? Alvarado’s Bathtub Boot Screech?” 

“Yes, aren’t they fabulous? Look at the wonderful labels.” Dorian’s standing in the corner, examining a bottle coated in what looks to be four ages worth of dust. 

 

“Fabulous? That is not quite the word I would have chosen.” Cullen says dryly as he examines the next bottle. “Abyssal Peach? Dorian, the label even says ‘ _should be kept in a cold, dark place. Also locked. Forgotten as well, if one is wise._ ’ Are you sure the Inquisitor isn’t collecting them as a form of charity? Keeping them away from unsuspecting mouths? I’m not drinking any of these.” 

Dorian’s not listening he can tell, too busy pulling the cork out of a bottle. He sniffs at it tentatively then raises the bottle to his lips and takes a deep drink. “Ohhhh, Maker, this is good. Cullen, come here. You have to try this!” 

“No. Thank you. I rather value my insides the way they are.” 

“Cullen. Stanton. Rutherford. Come over here this instant and try this wine. I had some and I’m fine, am I not?” Dorian has one hand on his hip and looks every inch the petulant teenager he sounds and Maker, why is that so appealing? 

“You might be fine because you’re pickled from the inside?” But that’s the extent of his argument and Cullen finds himself at Dorian’s side, capturing his mouth in a quick kiss before he pulls away and raises the bottle to his lips. 

“This is… not terrible, actually.” Cullen stifles a quick cough and takes another drink before he examines the label. “Rowan’s Rose… what was this doing out in the wilderness?” 

“If I remember correctly it was wilting and withering in Master Dennet’s house. Poor thing, alone and unloved. The Inquisitor did it a service by bringing it here.” 

Cullen hums with approval and takes another drink, deeper this time until his head is spinning and he has to stop to catch his breath. Dorian’s hand is on his ass now, kneading and Cullen bites back a moan, arching his back and leaning in to kiss the hollow behind the mage’s ear; the sweet spot, he knows, the one that never fails to make Dorian quiver beneath his hands. 

“I’m a genius,” Dorian grins, whispering the words right into his ear, teasing out an appreciative shiver. 

“You’re mad,” Cullen says. “But I love you all the same.” 

Dorian nips at his neck, breath heavy and hot against his skin and he can’t think, can hardly breathe; the feel of the mage’s teeth on his skin makes him whimper and whine, fingernails dragging at Dorian’s neck. Cullen moans and reaches for the bottle which Dorian keeps just out of his reach. “Something you want, Commander?” He teases, taking a sip before he captures Cullen’s mouth in a rough, needy kiss. 

Dorian tangles his fingers through the man’s blond curls, scraping his nails against Cullen’s scalp, gasping as Cullen’s lips move down to suck at the divot where neck meets collarbone. 

“Ah! Careful, I’ll have a mark tomorrow.” He breathes, moving a hand down to grab at Cullen’s ass, the other clinging at the shelf above him in a vain attempt to keep them both upright. It creaks dramatically, almost as though it were announcing what would happen in the seconds to come. The shelf breaks in two and Cullen dives to catch the bottles falling to the floor. 

Success on two counts, failure on the third. The last bottle comes crashing to the ground with a noise that could wake the entire Inquisition. Everything felt slow, so slow he feels he could have stretched his arm out, could have caught the bottle before it fell and broke upon the stones but he doesn’t. He can’t stop staring at Cullen, at the flush rising high on his cheeks, at the look of utter need written across his face. 

“Amatus… I’m shocked. A chantry boy. Turned on by breaking the rules? Who have you been spending time with?” Dorian reaches a hand around to remove Cullen’s tunic, his armor having been shed hours ago when their game began. He pushes the man onto his back, swinging an easy hip over his abdomen to straddle him. 

Cullen whimpers, pushing his hips up to meet Dorian’s, panting as Dorian chuckles and moves down to press his lips against Cullen’s. 

“What do you want?” He whispers as Cullen makes a small, strangled sound in the back of his throat and tries to pull him closer, fingernails digging in the small of his back. 

“I… I want you to fuck me. Please. Please?” He’s so beautiful when he’s begging, Dorian thinks. Face flushed, eyes screwed shut and every muscle tight and waiting and all for him. 

“Turn over,” he growls, his hands helping Cullen onto his elbows, guiding his hips gently into position. He pops a finger in his mouth, slicking it wet with saliva and eases it into Cullen’s entrance, smirking at the soft moan it elicits from the blond. He rubs his free hand up Cullen’s back, scraping against skin with his fingernails then back down the man’s thigh; he paused at the sensitive spot where hipbone met finely hewn muscle, the spot that never failed to make the man laugh and even now, he didn’t disappoint, the sound rippling from him like water over stones. 

Cullen rolls his hips, a strangled sound coming from his lips and Dorian slides a second finger in, his other hand stroking up the length of Cullen’s cock. Hazy now, he wants to thrust into the man so badly and he forces himself back, leaning over to brush his lips against Cullen’s spine, tracing the scar that arcs up his back. 

Cullen’s whimpering now, thrusting his hips up against his hand and Dorian slips a third finger in, pulling back out and then in again as Cullen grunts and leans against him. He wants more. Needs more. Now. But he his fingers keep their slow, steady motion, in and out until finally, Cullen opens for him and he presses his cock up against his ass. 

He raises the bottle to his lips, already drowsy with drink, and takes another sip before he lowers his mouth to the man’s entrance. He runs his tongue along Cullen’s balls, circling them until the man shudders and whines beneath him, up to his hole. He gives another long, hard lick, pushing his tongue deeper until the tight ring of muscle gives way beneath him. The groan Cullen makes sears through him like a sword, arousal rising through every inch of him, each nerve singed with desire. 

Dorian positions himself above the man, entering him slowly until his hips are flush with the shapely swell of Cullen’s ass. Slowly now, each thrust a crescendo; desire swelling in the pit of his stomach and he forces himself to focus. He feels the silk of Cullen’s skin beneath him, teasing, tantalizing, bringing him back to the moment and he thrusts again, hands kneading at the man’s ass. 

And it’s _Cullen_. Cullen who shudders beneath his touch. Cullen who teases without even knowing it, his shy smile pulling at the edges of his lips. The way he melts under Dorian’s gaze, curling in on himself as he cries out. “You’re so beautiful” Dorian whispers as he thrusts deeper into the man, one hand tangled through his curls, moaning as Cullen tightens around him. 

“Please... Fuck, Dorian I... I need...” Cullen whispers raggedly, turning his head to look at Dorian; pure, unadulterated need written across his face. Dorian leans down to kiss him across the mouth as he thrusts again, moving his tongue slowly past the man’s lips, exploring every crevice of his mouth until Cullen whimpers beneath him. “Please?”

He’s close now, his body shaking as he thrusts again and again, quicker now, his fingers digging into the flesh of Cullen’s hips. Just a few more quick thrusts and he cries out, shuddering with relief as his orgasm takes him, Cullen collapsing beneath him. 

They lie together for no few short minutes, breath finally slowing and then Dorian raises the bottle again to his lips, drinking deep before passing it to Cullen who takes it gratefully. 

“We’ll tell the Inquisitor a passing dignitary was thirsty and broke the shelf in their haste to find a good vintage, yes? It’s just as well she not know the truth.”

Cullen laughs, still panting slightly from their tryst. "Like I said, I merely came to dissuade you from your regrettable course of action. That I got caught up in it... is none of the Inquisitor's business. I'm more than happy to blame the carnage on any number of visiting nobles." He takes a quick drink and leans back onto Dorian's chest, sighing contentedly as Dorian's fingers rake through his hair. 

"I love you, Amatus"

"I love you too."


End file.
